In This Hell ( V i o l e t ) [Kuroshitsuji 2] {Completed}

Chapter XV : A Death in London

I don't like starting off a chapter with an author's note, but I would really recommend putting the song on the side (Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey) on a loop while you read this chapter, because if there were song lyrics to describe this book, it would be Early Sunsets over Monroeville by My Chemical Romance, but if there was a song to fully describe the pain in this story, it would be this absolutely gorgeous song.

But does anyone notice that there's a corpse in this bed?!

Chapter Fifteen

The tall blond gave us an easy smile as he straightened up again, pushing golden strands back from his face. The end of his saw ploughed into the dirt ground as he dropped it and rested his elbow atop the handle; his eyes flickered to Violet, before focusing on me.

"Lady Grace. I have certainly heard a lot from you." He held out his gloved hand and I took it, allowing him to press his lips to my skin. "It's a pleasure."

"Hello," I said flatly, drawing my own hand back underneath my cloak. Eric seemed to smile wider as he studied me.

"Goodness, Sir Gregory, this woman is absolutely fascinating."

"She is mine." Violet's voice betrayed no emotion – in fact, it was almost as though he and I were entirely in tune, for his tone had become exactly like mine. "Slingby, I suggest that we take this inside, I do not wish to be overheard."

"Fair 'nuff." He grinned again, ripping his saw effortlessly from the mud and draping it back across his shoulders. He gave me a smirk as he saw me watching him. "You see something you like, sweetheart?"

I blinked, considering the question before I answered in the negative. "I have no sexual drive."

Violet flinched, and Slingby began to laugh. "Oh, Lord, you are a crack-up, aren't you? Alright, this way, folks, I know this area. There should be a tavern around here that's pretty dark, out of the way. Fancy a drink, Sir Gregory?"

The addressed said nothing, instead choosing to take me securely by the waist. Eric chuckled and started to walk; he had a light, jaunty tread, like he was excited just at the prospect of travel. The pair of us followed after him, our cloaks and my skirt gliding near-silently across the ground.

The tavern in question was very small, and very crowded, filled with the gruesome-minded spectators of the execution that had just taken part a few moments previously. Everywhere patrons were shouting, cheering, talking as they held overflowing tankards of alcohol and staggered from the bar to their tables, then back again.

It was indeed a busy pub, which gave Eric and Violet much room to converse freely without fear of being overheard. Everyone in the place was too drunk or too absorbed in their own individual conversations to care.

There was a very small table free in the corner of the back room, and Eric politely pulled a seat out for me to perch on. I sat and Violet, looking irritated, sat down beside me.

"Okay. Drinks are on me, humans, what can I get you?"

"Absinthe," Violet said in a dark voice.

"I don't want anything."

"There's no point, anyway, it'll only sit in your stomach. You don't have the capability to get properly drunk."

"Ah, let the lady drink." He leaned back down on the table. "I'll find something for you. In the meanwhile," He tapped the butt of his saw, "Mind my scythe, yeah?"

"I can't believe he was the one who reaped you," Violet said, as soon as Eric had made himself scarce. "He's so coarse and flirtatious."

"Why is that bad?"